The Adventures of Akbar
Page 5
CHAPTER II
THE FIRST VICTORY
The next moment a tall, handsome man entered the tent; but one look athis pale, anxious face was enough to tell those inside that the news wasbad. So for an instant there was silence; and in the silence, with adeafening roar and a blinding blaze of blue light, came a terrific crashof thunder followed by a sudden fierce pelt of hail upon the taut tentroof.
It sent a shiver through the listeners. They felt that the storm hadbroken indeed upon their heads, that danger was close beside them.
Then the King stepped to his wife's side and took her hand, and as hespoke there was a sob in his breath as of an animal who after a longchase finds himself at last driven to bay.
"Come!" he said briefly, "there may yet be a chance for us. My horse,weary though it be, will suffice for thy light weight. In the mountainslies possible safety. Come! There is not a moment to lose."
"But--but the child--" faltered the Queen.
King Humayon's voice failed him. He could not speak for a moment; but heshook his head.
"I will not leave the child--" began the wretched mother. "My lord! thoucanst not have the heart----"
"It is his only chance--" interrupted the poor King, his face full ofgrief and anger, of bitter, bitter regret--"His only chance of life! Inthe mountains yonder, with winter snow upon us, lies certain death forone so young. Were we to stay with him here, he would find death withus--for my brother Askurry is close behind us. But if we are gone, Godknows, but he might spare the child. Askurry is not all unkind, and thelittle lad favors my father so much that his blessed memory may besafeguard. God send it so. It is his best chance, his only chance. Socome----"
"I cannot! I cannot!" moaned the poor mother distractedly.
"There is no other way, sweetheart!" said the King, "so be brave, littlemother, and come for thy son's sake. He will be safer here than withthee. Come! trusting in God's mercy for the child. And come quicklywhile the darkness of the storm shrouds our going."
Then he looked round on those others--Head-nurse, Wet-nurse, OldFaithful, Roy the Rajput, and Meroo the cook-boy--not much of abodyguard for the young prince, and yet, since force would be useless,perhaps as good as any other, if they had a head between them. But thenurses were women, Faithful nothing but an old soldier, and the twoothers were mere boys. Some one else must be left. Who? Then heremembered Foster-father, Foster-mother's husband. He was the man.Solid, sober, clear-headed. So, as Queen Humeeda was being hurriedlywrapped in a shawl by the two weeping nurses, he gave them a fewdirections. They were to stay where they were, no matter what happened,until Foster-father returned from showing the fugitives a path he knewto the mountains, and then----
King Humayon could say no more. Only as, after a hurried, tearless,hopeless farewell to his little son, he paused at the tent door to takea last look, his half-fainting wife in his arms, he said suddenly in asharp, loud voice:
"Remember! In your charge lies the safety of the Heir-to-Empire."
The words sank into the very hearts of those who stood watching thegroup of hurrying figures making its way rapidly toward the hills.
"Pray Heaven," muttered Old Faithful anxiously, "that they be over therise before those who follow see them."
So they stood fearfully watching, watching. And Heaven was kind, forthough one great blue blaze of lightning showed the fugitives clearagainst the sky line, when the next came there was nothing but therugged rocks.
Then for the first time Baby Akbar, who had been silent in his nurses'arms, watching with the rest, lifted up his deep-toned baby voice:
"Daddy, Amma," he said contentedly, "gone up in a 'ky."
Whereupon Foster-mother wept loudly and prayed that good angels mightprotect her darling.
But Head-nurse was more practical, and set about considering how bestthat safety might be secured. Who was there who could help? No one ofmuch use, truly, though every one was brimful of devotion and ready togive his or her life for the Heir-to-Empire.
"I will kill the first man who dares--" began Old Faithful.
"Aye! The first! But how about the last, old man?" interruptedHead-nurse. "Force will be of no avail. Askurry hath half an army withhim."
"Harm shall only come to the child through my body," wept Foster-mother,whereat Head-nurse laughed scornfully.
"Woman's flesh is a poor shield, fool! God send we find betterprotection than thy carcass."
"Boo! hoo!" blubbered Meroo the cook-boy. "Lo! Head-nurse! I could killa whole army by poisoning their suppers."
Head-nurse nodded faint approval. "Now, there is some sense in that,scullion, but what about that they may do supperless? If they shoulddare----"
"They will not dare," said a clear, sharp voice, and Roy the Rajput ladstepped forward, a light in his great eyes. "My mother used to say,'Fear not! A king's son is a king's son always, so be that he forgetsnot kingship.'"
Head-nurse stood puzzled for a second, then she caught the meaning ofthe lad's words, for she was a clever, capable woman, and had all awoman's quickness.
"Thou art right, my lad," she said slowly, looking curiously at Roy,from whose face the flash of memory seemed to have passed. "Thou artright. In royalty lies safety. The Heir-to-Empire must receive hisenemies as a King! Quick! slaves! Close the tent door and let us bringforth all we have, and make all things as regal as we can. There is notime to lose."
And they did not lose any. The result being that when, quarter of anhour afterward, Prince Askurry, bitterly disappointed at finding thathis real quarry, the King and Queen, had escaped, strode with some ofhis followers into the tent where he was told Baby Akbar was to befound, he paused at the door, first in astonishment and then inamusement.
It was really rather a pretty picture which he saw. To begin with thetent had been lit up with the little rushlight lamps they call in India_chiraghs_--tiny saucers which can be made of mud in which a cotton wickfloats in a few drops of oil--and a row of these outlined the mule trunkthrone. Then Meroo's misshapen limbs had been hidden under a chaincorselet and helmet, so he made quite a respectable fellow to OldFaithful, as the two supporters stood bolt upright with drawn swords oneon either side, while beneath them, on the ragged old Persian carpetwhich had been spread to hide the dirty tent drugget, crouchedHead-nurse and Foster-mother, their faces veiled with their best goldembroidered veils.
A great pile of cushions had been placed on the muletrunk, and in thecentre of these sat Baby Akbar, the Royal heron's plume of his turbanwaving gently in the breeze caused by the slow dignified sweep of theRoyal fan which Roy, who stood behind his young master, was swingingbackwards and forwards.
But it was not the prettiness of the picture which made Prince Askurrypause. It was the child's open fearless face which reminded him atonce--as King Humayon had hoped it might--of that dear, beloved fatherwhose memory, even in their worst wickednesses, was ever a goodinfluence in the lives of his sons. Babar the Brave! Babar of theGenerous Heart! the Kindly Smile! Who could forget him?
But behind Prince Askurry were others who did not remember; who wereeager to kill and have done with Humayon and his son for ever.
And when they saw Prince Askurry pause, they were quick with advice.
"It is unwise to spare snakes' spawn," said one.
_Prince Askurry ... strode ... into the tent._]
"The boy is father to the man," said another. "He who is wise killsyoung rats as well as old ones."
And still Prince Askurry paused while poor Head-nurse and Wet-nurse wentsick with fear under their veils at what might be going to happen, andOld Faithful's hand clasped the hilt of his sword tighter, since comewhat may he meant to strike one blow for his young master. But Roy'skeen eyes showed--as the peacock's feather fan swept past them backwardsand forwards--like a hawk's as it hovers above a partridge. There was inthem a defiance, a certainty that victory must come.
Suddenly a wicked laugh filled the tent. "Peace! brothers," said asneering voice, "Prince Askurry prefers to leave the
snake to fight withhis own son in the future."
The taunt told. It was true! Better to scotch the snake now, than toleave it to be dangerous by and by; dangerous perhaps to his own littleson who was but a few years older than Baby Akbar.
Prince Askurry strode forward drawn sword in hand; but whether he reallymeant to use it or not cannot be told, for a very strange thinghappened. Baby Akbar had been listening to the fierce voices just as hehad listened to the angry voices when Adam had refused to salute. Andnow he saw some one before him who appeared to have no intention--asAdam had no intention--of making his reverence; so, remembering thefine thing he had done when the latter had been naughty, up went thelittle hand again, and once more the loud, deep, baby voice saidimperiously:
"Salute! Slave! salute!"
The words were barely uttered when by pure chance Prince Askurry's footcaught in the ragged carpet, and----?
And down he came flat as a pancake on the floor in the very lowliestsalute that ever was made!
The next moment, however, he sat up, half-stunned, and looked wrathfullyat his little nephew.
But Baby Akbar's honest open face was full of grieved sympathy.
"Poor, poor!" he said, shaking his quaintly crowned head, "tumbu down.Nanna kiss it, make it well."
Prince Askurry sat stupidly staring for a moment or two. Then the memoryof many a childish hurt cured by like gracious offer from his fathercame back to him, making his heart soft. He sprang to his feet and wavedby his councillors to cruelty.
"Go, my lords!" he cried fiercely. "Go seek the King who is no true Kingif ye will, and kill him. But this boy goes with me to Kandahar; thestuff of which he is made counts for life, not for death."
Then with a sudden generous impulse, for he was at heart his father'sson, he held the hilt of his drawn sword in token of vassalage for BabyAkbar to touch.
And the child, clever, observant beyond his years, remembering how hismother had guided his fingers to Old Faithful's weapon, put out hislittle hand solemnly and touched it.
Behind their close-folded veils Head-nurse and Wet-nurse wept for joy.And the old trooper's grip relaxed and the hard relentless look fadedfrom Roy's face.
For here was safety, for a while at any rate, for the Heir-to-Empire.
He, and Fate between them, had won his first victory. No! his second,since the first had been the conquering of Adam's obstinacy.
But for that Baby Akbar might not have behaved with such dignity.